


I Wasn't Supposed To Fall In Love With You

by bloodnuns



Category: FrnkIero and the Cellabration, LeATHERMØUTH, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodnuns/pseuds/bloodnuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt I received on Tumblr; "I cheated".</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wasn't Supposed To Fall In Love With You

They had been planning for months. The stress of having to pick out the color scheme and plan out the fucking flower arrangements and coordinate the caterer had nearly driven Frank insane; but today was finally the day. He was finally going to get to marry the man that he’d been in love with for years. Through shitty tours and rehab trips and relapses and everything, he was finally going to get to marry Gerard. Frank stood in front of the floor length mirror, his pristine suit fit him better than anything he’d ever worn in his entire life, and he had to admit that he felt damn good in it, even though he fucking hated wearing suits. 

 

The butterflies in his stomach were almost too much to handle. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to scream or vomit or do some kind of combination of both because the excitement was going to swallow him whole. Frank knew that he wasn’t supposed to see Gerard right before the ceremony, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to see the hazel eyes that had kept him grounded for so long, needed the reassurance that Gerard still wanted to do this. Still wanted to marry him. 

 

Ray shook his head. “You know that if you bust up in the dressing room to see Gerard, he’s gonna be pissed. He’s superstitious as fuck,” Ray said. 

 

“He can get the fuck over it. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life with me pissing him off, I don’t see why our wedding should be any different,” Frank replied, pushing his way past Ray and into the hallway. 

 

Gerard’s dressing room, most often reserved for the brides, was on the other end of the building. Frank had to navigate past family and friends and half heartedly accept loads of different congratulations before he finally stood in front of the door to where Gerard was. 

 

Frank lifted his fist to knock, pausing when his attention was caught by a moan coming from the other side of the door. He leaned in and pressed his ear against the wood, his blood running cold.

 

“ _ Oh, fuck yeah.”  _

 

That was his soon-to-be husband’s voice, between suckling noises and heavy breaths. 

 

Frank grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open.

 

Gerard, in his stark white suit, had his pants around his ankles and his dick in the mouth of none other than Frank’s best man.

 

Gerard looked up, startled, and his face ran through a menagerie of emotions before finally settling on ‘deer in the headlights’. 

 

The breakfast of vegan pancakes Frank had that morning threatened to come back up, and he had to swallow hard to keep himself from vomiting.

 

He didn’t have anything to say, didn’t have anything he felt he could say, to understand this situation any better than he did right in this moment. 

 

Frank turned on his heel and left. Left the room. Left the church. Left the goddamn state.

 

 

**Two weeks later…**

 

Frank’s phone buzzed. He hadn’t seen or spoke to anyone that had been at the wedding (with the exception of his mother), but that hadn’t stopped them from texting him or trying to call him. 

 

He was sat at a bar in Chicago, Yuengling in hand. His good friend Evan had been nice enough to let him crash on his couch for a while so that he could figure out his life, so that he didn’t have to go back to Jersey.

 

Frank pulled his phone from his pocket and read the text from his ex-fiance.

 

_ I cheated. I’m sorry. Please come home. _

 

Frank thought about it for a moment before replying.

 

_ Go fuck yourself.  _ Send.

 

That was the last time Gerard had ever tried to get Frank back.

 

He stayed with Evan for another month after he received the text from Gerard and then finally moved himself and all of his shit back to Jersey, where all of his friends welcomed him back with open arms. While Frank was gone apparently Gerard had moved to Manhattan to run away from the shame of ruining his own wedding. No one had heard from him in a while. 

 

Well, all of his friends had welcomed him back, except for one. Mikey. He hadn’t heard from Mikey since he got back and he felt awful about it. He didn’t hold anything against him for the actions of his brother, but every time he tried to call or text Frank just got this voice in the back of his head that told him that Mikey hated him for running out. Or something. Frank knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help his anxiety. 

 

 

**One year later...**

 

Frank had started another band when he got home and quickly released an EP. Enough music for them to play a set and start doing shows around the Trenton area. 

 

Their show tonight proved to provide a packed house, and while he was on stage he noticed a face towards the back that caught his attention. 

 

Mikey. With his stupid glasses and stupid hair and even stupider wrestling shirt. Mikey was there. And Frank almost forgot the words to his own song as that realization hit him. 

 

As soon as their set was over, he handed his guitar off to Ed and climbed off the front of the stage, making a beeline through the crowd to where he’d seen Mikey standing. Frank looked around, not being able to find him. He rushed to the entrance and out onto the street, finally seeing Mikey, half a block away and growing smaller.

 

“Mikey, wait!” He yelled, hightailing it after him.

 

Mikey stopped, turning slowly, like he hadn’t wanted to be spotted and was waiting for Frank to lay into him. 

 

When Frank caught up with him he was out of breath. He doubled over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. 

 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Frank managed between pants.

 

“I-- uh, nowhere, really,” Mikey replied, shrugging. 

 

Frank stood up straight and eyed Mikey, noticing the look of apprehension painted across his face, among other things. Mikey looked damn good, and Frank couldn’t tell why he’d only just noticed (within the last 9 years of them knowing each other) how fucking  _ attractive _ Mikey was.

 

“I missed you, dickhead.”

 

“I’m sorry. I just thought--”

 

“That I wouldn’t want to see you after what happened between me and Gerard? Yeah, I figured. But, and no offense because I don’t expect you to choose sides; your asshole brother doesn’t affect our friendship, dude.” Frank folded his arms expectantly, waiting for Mikey to give him another excuse to shoot down. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Mikey finally said again, softer this time. His gazed fell to his shoes, and Frank could tell that Mikey felt like shit about not talking to him.

 

“Look, it’s fine. Just-- let’s hang out or something, okay? James is throwing me this fucking birthday party, that I don’t want to go to to begin with, but it’d be nice to have you there. I fucking miss you, dude.” 

 

Mikey nodded, “yeah, I’ll be there.” 

 

They exchanged phone numbers, and a week later Frank found himself at James’ two story home in Belleville surrounded by people dressed in costume. Because of course they were dressed in fucking costume. Frank’s birthday was on Halloween, which meant that every birthday party he had was a fucking Halloween party. 

 

Frank had decided not to dress up though. It was his party he could do what he wanted. 

 

He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. He couldn’t tell why he had butterflies in his stomach, but he found himself checking his phone every 30 seconds, waiting on the text from Mikey he knew he was sure to get telling him that Mikey wasn’t coming. That he didn’t want to see Frank. 

 

Frank was leaned up against the counter in James’ kitchen, beer in one hand and phone in the other, making small talk with whoever came up to him but keeping most of the conversation pretty superficial. He was deep in his Facebook feed when he heard a voice coming from his right.

 

“Hey,” Mikey greeted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

Frank released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, relieved that Mikey had shown up.

 

“Hey,” Frank replied, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket. 

 

Mikey hadn’t really dressed up either, the only thing out of the ordinary that donned him was the Jason Voorhees mask strapped lazily to the side of his head. It matched his skin tight Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt, and his skin tight jeans. Frank found his mouth going dry right at that moment, and he tried desperately to fix that with a swig of his beer. 

 

Mikey padded over to James’ fridge and grabbed his own beer. Frank couldn’t help how his eyes slid over the curve of Mikey’s ass as he bent over.  _ Fuck. What the fuck. _ Frank didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly so attracted to the brother of his ex-fiancé. And he almost really didn’t fucking care. 

 

When Mikey walked back over to Frank, popping the tab open on his beer, they fell back into conversation easily. It was like they’d never been apart, and Frank was forced to notice the tug on his heart strings every time Mikey smiled.

 

They stood in the kitchen talking for hours, consuming another couple of beers while people filed in and out, some of them wishing Frank a happy birthday. 

 

“And y’know, that was when I decided that if I was going to buy one of the action figures, I might as well collect them all, y’know? I’ve been all over Jersey and most of New York trying to track down this first edition action figure of the Undertaker and I can’t fucking find it anywhere,” Mikey babbled. He’d been telling Frank a story about how he went through some of the things packed away at his mom’s house when he stumbled upon his favorite Andre The Giant action figure, and how it had turned into a collection. (That was the thing about the Way brothers, they liked to collect things. Frank was the same way, but it was more complicated than just comic books or action figures.)

 

Frank found himself laughing, his hand rested on his stomach, a feeling of contentedness radiating deep from within his bones. “You are such a fucking  _ nerd _ ,” he teased. 

 

“Look, we both know that, but I swear to god if I don’t find this action figure soon I’m going to personally write Mattel a strongly worded letter about how shitty their distribution is,” Mikey went on. 

 

Frank shook his head, still chuckling over how ridiculous Mikey seemed over this one action figure. They let a silence fall between them for a few moments, and Frank thought about how, truth be told, he loved hearing Mikey talk about things he was passionate about-- like wrestling. It was the only time that Mikey really seemed to babble on and on, and there was something about Mikey’s voice that just made him feel...calm. Like everything was going to piece itself back together somehow.

 

Frank glanced up from the floor and noticed that Mikey was staring him dead in the face, making his mouth go dry for the second time that night. Something twisted in his stomach as Mikey leaned in closer to him, almost waiting for permission…

 

Frank reached out and grabbed Mikey by the back of the neck, smushing their lips together in a sloppy kiss that tasted like beer and cigarettes. There was whooping from a couple people, but it seemed so far off, like Frank and Mikey had been transported to somewhere that wasn’t this party, to somewhere where they were alone. The only two people on the planet. 

 

And that was when Frank felt himself fall.

 

Mikey pulled back first, leaving Frank to crash with all of his emotions at once.

 

“Shit, Frank, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

 

When Frank opened his eyes he saw that worry and anxiety was painted across Mikey’s face in bright shades of red and deep lines across his forehead.

 

“Shut up,” Frank said, kissing him again.

  
\-----  
  


That party had been two and a half years ago; and now, as Frank found himself in front of another floor length mirror, in another church, dressed in another suit, he wasn’t at all nervous.


End file.
